


All In The Family

by peachmilktea



Series: Alternative Methods [5]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachmilktea/pseuds/peachmilktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She just wanted to buy new pencils, and along with that Namine meets his father. His dad, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In The Family

Three weeks after her last pencil broke, Namine finally caved. When Connor happened to be passing by she waved him down as politely as possible. 

"Could I travel with you the next time you go to New York?" 

A flicker of hesitation yanks through his deep brown eyes, but before Namine can retract the idea, he granted her a little smile. 

"Of course. What do you need?" 

Biting her lip, Namine produced the worn, broken pieces of her last two pencils. It did her no good to carry them around, but in all truthfulness she couldn't get anything done without knowing they were near. "When I first arrived in Boston someone was kind enough to give me these, but I've used them so much they've broken down. The company that manufactures them is in New York." 

As she looks back up at him, Connor's head tilts, eyes searching as if he has discovered something interesting. "I did not know that you liked to draw." 

"It is a silly hobby." One with too many memories, but her powers were limited here, if they survived at all. Namine quickly changes the focus of the conversation, putting the broken pieces back in her dress pocket. "If it's nothing but trouble then I can-" 

"No, I do not mind. I have business in that area as well." 

And that settled it. 

\--

The _Aquila_ is an amazing sight. Namine couldn't have kept herself in line even if her life depended on it. While Connor had warned her about the dangerous of seasickness and the mercurial nature of the sea in general, that did not stop her from wandering inward and out, inspecting and witnessing as much as she could. The crew made fun of her the first few times but Namine blocked them out, only heeding Connor's words when that unfamiliar, serious ache would creep into his voice. 

New York itself was better than Boston. It seemed there were less people, and the presence of the Redcoats was near suffocating, but it was not crowded, and the people seemed a little bit happier. Occasionally the grim reality would stand too closely to a child laughing or a couple smiling, but Namine found it no more or less jarring than the rest of this world. 

For the first day, Connor walked around the city with her, insisted on accompanying her to the shop. The store owner, the very same man who had given her the first set in Boston nearly a year ago, was overjoyed to see what a loyal customer he had created. While there Namine obtained new pencils, some heavier and others made for sharper, more detailed lines, as well as a new journal to hold all of the new drawings. It's cover was black and smooth leather, the front held small ties meant to keep whatever was inside at least minimally safe. What truly won her over was the size, big enough for creative freedom and just small enough to stay with her at all times. 

"You didn't have to pay for all of it Connor," The words aren't at all convincing. Namine should have insisted that he put his money away. It was enough to have brought her all the way here when he had his own work to deal with. To have paid the bill while she was lingering around the shop was overkill, but it had put a permanent smile on her face even as they returned to the Inn. 

"It was worth it." And come to think of it while Namine has never failed to pay attention to Connor's expressions she has never seen him so pleased, even with his hood up. "I do not think I have ever seen you so excited." 

Carefully arranging the new purchases on the little desk between their two beds, Namine outright grinned in his direction, "I was thinking the same thing about you!" 

If she hadn't caught sight of the lifted corners of his mouth, the almost bashful expression, she would have worried that the words were too much. Restraining herself, Namine sat on her bed, hands resting in her lap.

"You said you had work here?" She does not pry. It's a simple question, but it stiffens his shoulders and erases the mirth from his expression almost immediately. 

"Yes. I will be meeting someone tonight. We will be able to leave tomorrow morning." 

Tense, short, and business like. It is a side of him that Namine had always been aware of, but she can't pretend it does not worry her. For the first time an almost awkward and uncertain air fills the space between them. Namine does nothing to hide her concern and Connor appears expressionless, all the little subtleties she had known erased from him. 

"I will be back soon, I would not advise walking around too late at night on your own, Namine." 

Just like that, he intends to leave, his back faces her and his hand reaches for the knob. The sounds that she had blocked out before - Laughing, curses, drunken words, and warning ones - would soon flood their otherwise peaceful room. 

"Ratonhnhaké:ton." The word is still a bit foreign on her lips but Namine says it with confidence now. His real name. As she slips off of the bed he turns to face her, as unaccustomed to hearing it as she is to saying it, maybe. A hug might be appropriate, but Namine cannot bring herself to go that far. Instead, her hands rest on his arms, gripping very softly, "Be safe." 

Half a step closer than he was before, Namine is reminded of how unbelievably tall he is, how large his hands feel in comparison to her waist when he sets them there. 

"I will." 

That is their goodbye. Quite and simple, the smile still permanent on her lips. 

 

She knows that he is right. Even now Namine could not defend herself against Redcoats or anyone else, for that matter. On the first floor the Inn's patrons celebrate, scream, shout, yell, and start a few fights. Namine blames them for her inability to concentrate, but she can spot her own lies. Connor had business and obviously it was the kind that would keep him out most of the night. In another hour she could dare to travel the stairs and get a bit of dinner and then turn in early. 

Connor would be back in the morning and they would return to the _Aquila_ , and Namine would draw it's insides and outsides, the smallest of details, and ask the crew if she could draw them as they worked. And after that? They would both be back at the Homestead, far away from her baseless paranoia. Everything would be fine. 

But even after dinner Namine only found herself more anxious and concerned. It was stupid of her. He had killed a man to protect her, he came and went from Davenport all the time. She had seen him worse off a handful of times and always, Connor had pulled through. Though Namine couldn't say what drove him forward it was substantial enough to pull him through whatever might happen. 

Namine found herself walking along New York's docks, chewing at her lip and occasionally glancing up at the buildings, searching the roofs. If she just so happened to see him here it wouldn't be her fault. It wasn't too late, a fair amount of people lingered in the streets, children played quietly in the streets and she could make it back to their hotel in less then a few minutes if she wanted. This was fine.

If she hadn't been looking for him Namine wouldn't have seen Connor leaning against a a pile of crates, blending with a small group of deckhands. As a mercenary passed him by, Connor's Hidden Blade dug itself into the mercenary's gut, producing little more than a choked noise. Namine watched as those who had noticed the quick killing ran off, frightened. She stood there, watching as Connor began to take the man's clothes off. 

"… Are you all right?" She couldn't help but ask, the question seemed a bit loud in the suddenly deserted port. Connor's head snapped up, his hand reaching back for his Tomahawk, but Namine did not flinch, and she certainly did not leave. He wouldn't hurt her. 

"Namine." Looking between her and the dead body, the eyes unseeing, she heard a nervous lilt to his question. "Would you do me a great favor?" 

 

 

Never in one million years could she have imagined that his regular clothes weighed so much. Hugging the white and blue material to her chest, Namine followed him down an alleyway towards a man with folded arms. He rounded on Connor, almost the same as a predator, before his eyes settled on her. 

"Son, I can meet your friends later, right now we have business to attend to!" His tone was sarcastic, so abrasive that it almost made her flinch. Though Connor immediately shielded Namine with an arm, the man's eyes never left her. He had called him 'son' so was he -

"It can wait a moment." Turning to her, Connor placed his hands on her shoulders while a million questions churned themselves in the base of her throat. "Go back to the inn, stay there until I return. It won't be long." 

He did not demand, he asked, and Namine couldn't bring herself to tell him no. Leaning to one side, she stole a brief glance at his companion. 

"Is he really your father?" The resemblance was certainly great enough. They eyes. The stature and body language. 

"Yes." Connor had never growled before, at least not to her knowledge, but the one word was injected with an unbelievable amount of bitterness. 

"Connor, you can spend the day with your little girlfriend tomorrow-" There was that voice again, snapping and caustic. Nothing at all like Connor. Despite herself, how stupid it was and how untrue those words were, Namine felt her face heat all the same.

"Ignore him." Connor was more resolute, more composed. "Go."

Confused and possibly a little disoriented, Namine did as she was told. The least she could offer the other man was a small wave and a "Goodbye." 

He gave her a tip of his hat in return and then set his eyes on the gate nearby, the one guarded by those in outfits similar to what Connor wore. All the way back to the hotel, Connor followed on the roofs until she was inside and back in their room. 

Namine set his clothes on his bed and slept with the journal across her chest. 

\--

It isn't Connor who comes to get her, but the other man. 

"I'm afraid we weren't properly introduced last night. I am Haytham Kenway and it seems you've become very acquainted with my son, Connor." 

That he doesn't call him 'Ratonhnhaké:ton' is upsetting. A father should use their son's real name. 

"Where is he?" Is he hurt? Has he forgotten her? 

"I sent him out on a little errand, he should be returning in an hour, maybe less. Would you care for lunch?" He is much older, but his tactics are smooth and practiced, eyes unrelenting and sharp, a gray wolf hiding in fine clothes. Namine feels simple in her dress, incomparable and uncertain. And yet telling him 'no' never crosses her mind. 

"All right." 

Off they go. Namine carries Connor's clothes with her, deep at the bottom of her traveling bag. He asks her how Connor is (he keeps using the wrong name, she clenches her fists), and if he is holding up well. He asks if Connor talks about his mother. Namine does not lie, she hardly knows these things. They don't talk about this. She only knows that Connor arrived at the homestead when he was young, that Achilles took him in. Despite this Haytham is patient. He buys her lunch, offers to buy her a new dress. It feels wrong, so unbelievably wrong. It is nothing like the time she spent with Connor, simple and carefree, easing into a new, safe definition. 

He looks at her strangely and mentions that women are sometimes looser with someone else's coin. Namine simply tells him that she isn't that kind of woman, she doesn't know how to be that way. 

"All woman are like that. They all know." He says, his voice jaded and coarse with something like regret, masking a bitterness that she has no right to examine. 

"You don't believe that." The noise of the crowd swallows them. He looks skeptical, as if it was against all living things for her to say that. Haytham is ready to say something but Connor's hand rests on her shoulder. She knows it is him, confirms it as he glares at Haytham. His father. 

"Relax boy, she's fine. We were just spending the afternoon together.Don't you think I should get to know your girlfriend." 

"You sent me on a useless, wild chase!" 

He is wild, angry. 

"I did not! You made my life much simpler." 

Namine does not have to watch them squabble for much longer. Connor takes her hand and leads them back towards the hotel and the carriage that waits for them. The ride back is quiet, Connor pulls his eyes up to her just before they cross into the homestead's territory. 

"Did he hurt you, Namine?" 

She does not lie. "No. We just talked." 

\--

Ratonhnhaké:ton is gone for a long while. The stretches between his visits demand her to draw more often, to sew quicker, and to find ways to help around their constantly growing community. Everyone knows her, Namine is invited to dinner, and she learns to cook, to invite others over with her. Guilty as it makes her feel sometimes, none of them would be him. None of them compare. 

But they are a community and they know what she needs even when Namine cannot pretend to understand anything, let alone her own feelings. Some nights they leave her in peace, others are spent talking, reminiscing, laughing, creating memories and ignoring the sudden gap in her atmosphere, the outline that could only be filled by one person. 

On a particular evening Namine is walking towards the _Aquila_ when Achilles demands her attention. It is a funny thing. He does not speak and she did not know to look for him. She stops on the path and meets the sharp criticism of his eyes. He does not look at her hair or the slightly abnormal pallor of her skin. His curiosity does not work the same way and with a suffocating, careful feeling, Namine realizes that she would not have been able to face him before now. 

As he pulls himself up on his cane she knows to come inside. It is a first meeting and a last, though Namine isn't sure how she guesses that, how she could ever know. There were rumors of course and the pain in Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes but what was that compared to reality? Nothing, apparently. 

"He cares about you, young lady." Names would be ridiculous. They know each other on the level of names. Achilles deposits himself in the chair behind the ledger, and she stands off to the side. "More than anyone else I have ever seen." 

Namine watches the uneven rise and fall of his chest. She wants to call Miriam. She is afraid that he will break without Ratonhnhaké:ton here to pull him back together for a little while longer. 

"He cares about you too." 

Not in a way that could easily be seen. Pulled together by something that she only has the faintest idea of. A heavy obligation but a stern love underneath. 

Achilles' smile is both wide and sad, pained near the edges. "I have given that child so much pain. So much to bear." There is more to it then that, she is sure. It just isn't his role to tell her and they both know that. "Will you help him?" 

The journal is heavy in her dress pocket. She knows that Achilles would call him Connor, but the idea of it does not ache, it doesn't hurt. 

"If he'll let me." 

Whether it was the wrong or right answer would always remain to be seen. All that mattered was Achilles' smile, wide and sad and brittle with memories. She ignores the press of them at the back of her mind and stays with him for a few hours until Achilles himself drifts off into sleep. Common sense tells her to stay inside at night but Namine returns to the gravestones and confirms the most painful suspicion. 

Connor Davenport. Two sons with the same name, and one father who loved them both endlessly.

**Author's Note:**

> Occurs awkwardly between/during 'Father and Son' and 'The Foam and The Flames'. Also: What is writing Haytham? What is writing Achilles? Yeesh, all these feelings.


End file.
